


Dripping

by mediumgrave



Category: Welcome to Night Vale
Genre: Blood, Blood Kink, Blood and Gore, Flashbacks, Gen, Gore, Hurt No Comfort, Kinktober, Kinktober 2019, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 11:16:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,911
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20947439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mediumgrave/pseuds/mediumgrave
Summary: Maybe it started with an accident. Something like a scraped knee or a cut while shaving. Perhaps that little spark sent the sense of adrenaline that his body took and followed through with. That sweet reminder of what was. The fear, the joy, the love. All of it returning at once at such a small mistake.





	Dripping

**Author's Note:**

> Heavy Trigger Warning for Self-Harm for this fic, please take care of yourself!
> 
> Kinktober day 7 - Blood/Gore from @RonTheMess on Twitter's list

This isn’t the first time this has happened.

With something so frequent it typically picks up a pattern, something traceable. But, this hasn't had one that Kevin had been able to find yet. It’s a little hard to find one when you are the one caught in the middle of all of it.

He didn’t necessarily care to find one anyways. It wasn’t an issue, so why do anything about it other than let it happen?

It happened in moments when there wasn’t anything happening at all. It happened when everything was so busy in his head that he needed it to make sense of something, anything. It happened when he was so deliriously happy. It happened when he needed something to remind him of what it was like to be that happy.

He can’t really remember when it first began. Perhaps when he first started wondering the desert? Or maybe it was after he had found Carlos?

Maybe it started with an accident. Something like a scraped knee or a cut while shaving. Perhaps that little spark sent the sense of adrenaline that his body took and followed through with. Something to recreate how intense the feeling of it was. That sweet reminder of what was. The fear, the joy, the love. All of it returning at once at such a small mistake.

Or, perhaps it wasn’t a mistake. Maybe all of this was a distinct choice, a desperate attempt to supply his brain with what he needed. A careful plan to recreate what had been done to him before, a plan spurred on by a need that no one else could supply for him anymore.

Though, if anyone could supply this for him they’d probably tell him that need was a strong word. Or something else ridiculous that wouldn’t do anything to sway Kevin’s opinion on this. They didn’t matter for this process. Of course, he’d be willing to help them be happier too if they wanted. But, he was doing his best to be better about permission first.

All this time spent thinking about thinking about the past times that this has happened and Kevin can’t even remember what sparked the current incident. He can’t help but laugh at that to himself. Funny little things brains are, always forgetting things.

Everything at the moment feels hazy. Covered in a fog that was obscuring anything that wasn’t what mattered in this moment.

The only things that are truly easy to focus on and recognize as real is the weight and look of the smile knife in his hand. The weight of it, the balance of blade and handle, the pretty way that the blade glistened. It was only about to be even prettier, and the thought makes Kevin squirm.

He isn't sure when he ended up on the tile floor holding his smile knife like it was the last thing tethering him to reality, but that didn't matter. What mattered was the way his heart pounded in anticipation. One last pang of adrenaline bursting through his body, trying so hard to pull him back and away from his mission. How silly it would try so hard to do so.

He pushes a shirt sleeve up, looking upon unbloodied skin. Far from perfect, but imperfection could be covered up. A shirt sleeve did a fine job, but nothing incredible. Nothing spectacular. He wouldn't stand for the bare minimum being done. Not even for this.

That's the thought that pushes the tip of the silver blade through layers of skin. He watches as the tip disappears under the created folds. He distantly wonders how much pressure it would take to get the knife to disappear completely. Would he hit bone first? Could he get through it if it hit? What sound would that bone crack make? How much would he scream? Would bone shatter and create new openings in hus skin? How much blood would drip on to the tile below him in his mission?

The thought of blood is simultaneously keeps him from doing just so and what almost drives him to commit. Instead he pushes the knife in only slightly deeper, the blade maybe a half inch in now. Kevin wasn't keeping track of that. Satisfied with that new depth he drags the knife across his forearm and watches the new wound open. He's already so impatient.

He drops the knife unceremoniously and grabs the freshly wounded arm hard. He grips it tight. Pressing the new walls together, desperately squeezing it, hoping, waiting.

Kevin moans as he watches it happen. His blood seeps from the wound, crawling across skin and leaving its crimson stain.

It's perfect, everything he absolutely needed.The color, the syrupy thickness, the warmth it leaves behind. The pain that precedes it, the way his breath hitches in his throat when he sees it trickling to create patterns along his forearm.

It’s only natural that he would need more of it.

He isn't looking when he picks the smile knife off of the ground. The blade gives an unforgiving bite to the tips of fingers and the sensation has Kevin gasping. It isn't what he planned or expected and it's something he knows he can't recreate on purpose.

There's a second of memories that breaks through the surface and takes over the current reality. Strex finding him at the station door. Business formal persons holding knives already covered in whoever else was standing in their way. The memory shifts and changes. He's berating an intern for such a poor job done, he's holding a knife and a freshly carved out tooth.

When the room comes back again he’s holding the knife into a fresh wound on his leg. It seems his body was trained enough to continue this without him needing to be too present for it. His former employers would be so proud of him. Perhaps a little less proud that he had a new tear in his pants. But the punishment for not taking care of his work uniform surely would be something delightful.

He removes the knife from the leg wound, the flesh here was thicker here than that was on his arms, so the knife found purchase even deeper here. Pulling it out of the flesh here is just about as much sensation than what Kevin assumes the insertion was. It’s a different sort of feeling, the drag made different by the angle of his arm. But feeling the metal slide against the inner layers of skin is unbelievable.

He brings the knife to his arm again, the same one he began with. While he was appreciative of his body for being able to continue without him, he had a job to finish here first. This cut is quick and efficient. Deep, and crossing over the previous cut into a gorgeous long X. While Kevin had a deep love of the slow cuts, there was something to be said about how those that were quick. They were so good at getting the job done. The sting that hit only after it was done was one of Kevin’s favorite parts.

Now, here Kevin had a decision to make. He could continue like this and push clothing when he needed to. Perhaps create some more tears. But they got so in the way. But they soaked up the color of blood so well, it really was an unfortunate circumstance.

Kevin decides to do what little he needs by unbuttoning the front of his shirt. He quickly follows with the unbuttoning of pants, pushing the fabric down to rest at his knees.

There. That would be good enough for now.

He rakes the knife across his chest now. Returning to slow and slightly shallow cuts. He has scars from deeper here, but really he's mostly teasing himself with these for now. He cuts several lines here before the slow trickle of blood begins here too. Gravity pulling the beautiful liquid down where it pools in folds of skin.

He makes himself moan again when he teases a nipple with the very point of the blade. He presses it into the tip, every nerve here firing and making Kevin shriek in delight. He has to catch himself with his spare and bloody arm that threatens to buckle under his weight. Oh, _ooooh that was good._

He catches his breath here, dancing the blade further down his torso. Kevin finds himself giggling at the way the nerves here tickled. It was really quite funny that these nerves reacted like this even in the presence of danger. You'd think they would learn to give more proper warnings.

He digs the knife in here too. The nerves quickly change the broadcast of sensations. Kevin's giggles turn to laughter as he thinks of the cells realizing how wrong they were to place trust in the blade.

He doesn't remove the blade as he creates a long deep cut from his stomach to his hips. Once his eye's land here they can't help but to glance between his legs as well. How funny it was that his body reacted with clear arousal. His laughter continues as he thinks to himself about how his hips would react to a simple brushing of the knife. It'd be simple pleasure. Boring pleasure that would be unpaired without pain. How silly the human body was created to accept sensation like this.

Here he removes the blade and lets the smooth part of the knife brush across the raise of bone on his hips. It feels nice, but it's like he imagined. It's boring. So he creates a quick cut on top of the bone. Perhaps the nerves here would finally learn not to trust. Perhaps they'd make it so every little touch hurt like it rightfully should. After all, most things they had felt in Kevin's past were hurt.

No. No, this wasn't meant to make him unhappy. How dare his thoughts betray him like this.

He'd just have to skip to the main event early to remind his thoughts what it meant to smile.

He grins wide as he presses the knife against the corners of his lips.

His senses were dull at this point, so he doesn’t feel his body protest as he presses the blade inward. He feels his smile widen as the flesh and muscle here tears open. The blood here doesn’t waste time before spilling. It spills down his jaw, down his neck to join the blood already spilled on Kevin’s chest. He pulls the knife in deeper. The blood spills into his mouth. The taste of iron coats his tongue, sending a wave of pleasure deep to his core. He pulls the knife in impossibly deep. He thinks about how his teeth look covered in blood. How they will be stained tomorrow if he’s careful. His smile would be beautiful. He brings the knife back one more time, before dislodging it and tossing it to the floor.

Blood drips from his mouth into the shoulders and collar of his shirt, the amount of blood here almost looks like a beheading for how much was spilled.

Kevin’s body gives up on holding him up, and he finds himself lying on the floor now. The blood from his mouth is now coating into his hair.

The loose and freshly open skin from his smile sends waves of joy throughout Kevin.

He can’t help but to think about how beautiful he looks.

**Author's Note:**

> Set at an ambiguous point in time because I couldn't decide where I liked it best. Might follow this up at some point with a comfort based fic, but if I don't When Sunshine Refuses to Speak is good enough for now.


End file.
